


A Cruel Dream

by KlingonEtiquette



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Redemption, Sad with a Happy Ending, all the pain, alternate universe- light turns himself in, chapter titles are song lyrics, confession of guilt, light is and is not kira, light turns himself in as kira
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingonEtiquette/pseuds/KlingonEtiquette
Summary: In the musical timeline, after Misa's concert, Light's conversation with his sister helps him see that the right thing to do is turn himself in. Wanting to change isn't enough, but it's a good start, and Light has the begrudging help of L and the Kira task force, who respect his father enough to give Light a second chance. A second chance, however, does not come with a clean slate, and it certainly doesn't come without a fight.





	1. Les cris résonnent (Cries Echo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is from the song "Pour la peine" from '1789: Les amants de la Bastille'

"Kira is... me." 

Three words sent the world as Light knew it crashing into the depths of the sea—no, into  _Hell_. Before the echoes even fell silent, Light saw his sister's eyes fill with panic, terror, and then, worst of all, with tears that overflowed onto her cheeks. Yesterday, Light thought, he would have wiped those tears away. But today, a few blocks away from MisaMisa's concert, with a Shinigami floating just overhead, Light was too afraid to move. Sayu said nothing. She did nothing but stare and stare, wide-eyed and afraid.  _Afraid of me_. A lump rose in Light's throat, making it hard to breathe, and he braced himself against the all-too-familiar flood of shame. God, he'd missed shame. Since picking up the Death Note, he hadn't been himself, had he? He had been someone else. He had been cold, unmoved by his actions, unmoved by these deaths. 

He had been Kira. 

And now, in his sister's eyes, he was Kira once and for all. 

"You..." Sayu began to back away, holding out her hands as if to ward Light off. He did not move to follow her. " _You?_ But... you're not. You're  _not_ Kira. You can't be Kira. Kira is... Kira is a monster. You'd never be a monster. Light, please, tell me you'd never do the things he's done! Tell me!" 

Light reached out, but Sayu stepped back again. His arm fell back to his side, limp and strangely numb. "I wish I could," he whispered. "Sayu, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, I'm sorry. I found... I didn't know... I thought it was a joke and I-I didn't mean to hurt... I didn't think anything would... And then he did. He did and I hated myself because I was—"

"A murderer?"

"And then I told myself he deserved it. They all did. All of them. I said they deserved it, because if they didn't, then I'm just a killer. And I didn't want to be a killer. I didn't want to be a murderer. I didn't mean to. It was an accident, I swear, the first time I used that goddamned notebook, and then I had to keep killing. I had to keep killing. Sayu, please believe me, I had to keep killing them or..."

Sayu ran the back of her hand across her eyes, smudging eyeliner across her face. "Or what?"

"I couldn't be an accidental murderer. That's worse than being a serial killer. That's worse than meaning to do it, isn't it?" Light collapsed onto his knees, swallowing against a torrent of sobs and tears.  _I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't cry._

He cried. 

"Please," he begged. He wasn't too proud for that yet. "Help me. You have to help me. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know how I'm supposed to stop, but I don't want to keep killing people. Please, you have to help me. God, I don't know what I'm doing!"

To Light's surprise, and his relief, Sayu crept toward him, knelt, and put her hand on his shoulder. "Turn yourself in."

Eyes blurry, Light looked up at her familiar, honest face. "What?"

"What I said before... What I said I'd tell Kira... I meant it. I meant all of it. Stop and turn yourself in." Gently, Sayu shook Light's shoulder, just enough to keep him focused. "It'll only be worse if they catch you."

Dull pain spread through Light's knees where they'd hit the ground. But he knew Sayu was right. If the Kira investigators caught him, he would be executed for sure. If he turned himself in, he might have a chance. Maybe there was someone there who could help him. 

"I'm tired of running," was all Light managed to say. "First thing tomorrow, I'll go to the police and turn myself in."

"What will you tell them?" Sayu asked. 

"Everything," Light told her. "I'll show them the notebook, tell them what it is, how to—"

"Notebook? You said it before, Light. What notebook?"

Light was grateful, for once, that he'd left it in his room. He wouldn't let his sister near it, not in a million years, not for the entire world. He wouldn't let her be corrupted by it like he was. 

"It's... I don't think I can tell you that right now, but I'll give it to them. I'll make sure they believe me. I'll make sure no one ever uses it again. I don't care if I die." He dug his nails into his palms just for a distraction. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Sayu repeated. She sounded mournful. "What will you do until then?"

"Don't know," Light admitted. "Go home. Pretend like... like I'm the son Mom and Dad raised... like I'm the big brother you deserve. Just for one more night. I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, but I just want... before everyone knows, I want..."

Rising to her feet, dusting off her skirt, Sayu said, "One last normal night. Where Mom and Dad don't know."

Before he could reply, Light broke into another bout of sobbing. When he could speak, he wiped his eyes, gasped for a few steadying breaths, and said, "One last normal night. Before everything goes to Hell."

And Sayu simply nodded. For one more night, they decided, they could just be the Yagami siblings. Just Sayu and her big brother, just Light and his little sister. They could stay up late watching movies or listening to music (Sayu's choice) or doing homework—anything to keep their minds off the fact that everything was going to change tomorrow. 

_Tomorrow_ , Light thought,  _I lose everything._


	2. À gagner d'autres guerres (To Win Other Wars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from the song "Le temps s'en va." (Also from '1789: Les amants de la Bastille.) 
> 
> I know this chapter is a little short, but that's for interrogation's sake (and to keep the story from dragging).

 Disappointment was worse than anger. Never in his life had Light wanted the full force of his father's wrath, but he wanted it now. More than anything, he wanted his father to scream at him, to insult him, to do  _anything_ but stand and look at him with dull, tired eyes. But all Soichiro did—maybe all he could do—was stare at Light with a thousand agonies written on his face. 

"Dad—" Light's throat tightened around the word, choking him off in a sob. He felt Sayu's cold hand creep into his, squeezing hard. How could she stand to hold his hand, he wondered, knowing the things it had done? Gratitude won out in the end, and he let his sister cling to him, too proud to admit that he was also clinging to her. 

Finally, Soichiro closed his eyes. Light saw a tear run down his cheek. "I raised you better than this."

"I... I know." 

Startled, Soichiro opened his eyes, fixing them on Light. Light wished in vain that he could write his own name in the Death Note, just to put an end to all this. If he asked, would Ryuk do it for him?  _No. That's the easy way out_. 

"Do you know how many people you've killed, Light?"

Light nodded his head. Truth be told, he couldn't remember how many. Better to lie than to hear his father tell him his kill count in that soft, disappointed, trembling voice. "Yes."

Sayu's grip on Light's hand tightened until it hurt, but he didn't try to pull away. God only knew when he'd get to hold his sister's hand again. 

"Papa," she said. "He's still Light."

Wincing, Soichiro took off his glasses. His hand passed in front of his eyes, wiping away the tears. He looked so fragile, so broken that Light's stomach twisted. He felt as sick and grey as his father looked. When Soichiro pressed a hand to his chest, Light thought,  _God, please don't let this kill him_. But it was only to retrieve a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. Light allowed himself to be cuffed, since he could neither run nor hide. Anywhere he went, his family would know where to find him. Anywhere he went, he would still have his conscience. 

He let his father take him out to the car. 

 _It's over now_. 

 

 

 

 


	3. Avant que le sang coule (Before Blood Runs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song title from "Nous ne sommes." (Yeah, we're continuing the 1789 lyrics for now.)

"So you're Kira."

Light did not like the tone in his interrogator's voice. For that matter, Light did not like his interrogator on the whole. Without saying a word, he whispered of another world. It wasn't Light's world. Maybe it wasn't anyone's world. But Light didn't like the way those black eyes stared through him, or the way that too-pale face shifted when it smiled, or the soft, haunting, somehow _sweet_ voice that accompanied the eerie appearance. Light didn't like the way this interrogator kept calling him Kira. 

"That's not my name," Light insisted. 

"Oh?" His interrogator took a seat across the table. Or, rather, he crouched in the chair like some sort of frog or goblin, watching Light's every move. "You'll have to tell me again. I'm afraid I've forgotten." 

_There's no way..._ "Yagami Light."

That awful, pale face stretched into one of its awful, thin smiles. "Ah, Yagami Light. Of course. Now I remember." He tapped his index finger to his temple. "I admire your father's stoicism today."

Light stiffened at the mention of his father, his throat seizing up. "Dad? Is he out th—..." Reflexively, he looked toward the one-way mirror.  _Stupid. He knew I'd do that_. Light swallowed his anxiety and looked back at his interrogator. "You know me. Do I get to know you?"

"Hmm? You can call me Ryuzaki."

"Ryuzaki..."  _Why do I get the feeling that isn't his name?_  "What—"

Ryuzaki's palm came down hard on the metal table, the loud bang reverberating through the small interrogation room. "Did I say you could ask questions?"

Heart racing, Light shook his head. "I-I'm sorry."

"So simple, isn't it, saying you're sorry now? But tell me, Kira—"

"Light—"

"—how it is you kill. I'm very interested to know that."

Light balled his hands into fists, waiting for the sharp pain of his nails against his palms. If he told Ryuzaki this, Ryuzaki might have him executed immediately. Worse still, if he told Ryuzaki, wasn't there a chance that someone else would take the Death Note? And if someone else took the Death Note, there was no stopping them from using it, no knowing what they might do with that kind of power. So Light bit the inside of his cheek and kept quiet. 

"Not talking? That's okay. We don't have to talk yet, Kira. I find I make  _excellent_ company." 

_This guy,_ Light thought. Despite himself, he wished he could wrap his hands around Ryuzaki's neck and watch the life drain out of his eyes right here, right now. Immediately after, however, the thought made him sick.  _I'm not a killer, I'm not a killer, I'm not a killer, I'm not a killer, I'm not—_

"What would you like to do with this time together, Kira? Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea, water?"

Light closed his eyes. Colors danced behind his eyelids, a beautiful trick of the light, and a merciful distraction from Ryuzaki's voice. If he opened his eyes, he would see Ryuzaki, wouldn't he? And if he saw Ryuzaki, he would have to think about how he could be handsome if he put in a little effort, like the hero of a murder mystery. In a way, Light supposed Ryuzaki  _was_ the hero of a murder mystery. As much as he hated to admit it, Ryuzaki was the hero of this mystery and Light himself was the villain. He wondered if he would have a chance at redemption before Ryuzaki sent him to Hell. 

"Maybe we could talk about your family. You have a little sister, don't you?"

In an instant, Light's eyes snapped open. "Leave Sayu out of this," he growled. 

Ryuzaki's eyebrows shot up. "Is that her name?"

"Don't play dumb."

"Tell me something, Light."  _He called me Light._ "Why would Kira confess?"

Light hesitated. He could feel the hook of Ryuzaki's questioning starting to burrow under his skin and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold out before he said something stupid, something dangerous. 

"Sayu... We went to a... Do I really have to go over all this again? I just told Aizawa and—"

Ryuzaki waved his hand for Light to stop. "But you didn't tell me. Please. I'm  _dying_ to know."

Clenching his jaw, Light took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaled through his teeth, and started from the end of MisaMisa's concert. He told Ryuzaki how his sister had confronted him for his support of Kira, how he had invited her to tell Kira, hypothetically of course, anything she wanted. Sayu had barely hesitated before saying she wanted Kira to stop and think. 

"She was right," Light said. His voice cracked. "What I did was wrong, no matter how good my intentions were.  _If_ they were ever good at all. I... I thought I was doing it for a better world, but now... I haven't killed since the day before yesterday and I-I  _miss_ it. It's like it's... I'm..."

"Addicted?" Ryuzaki suggested.

Light's vision blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut against a flood of tears. An addiction was exactly right, he realized. He was cold and lost without the Death Note in his hands, without that rush of adrenaline that came whenever he killed. He hadn't been killing for a better world, but for himself, for the surge of power. He had killed because he  _liked_ killing. 

When Light said nothing, Ryuzaki continued. "An addiction is not beyond help. If you'll let us, we can help you, Yagami Light. If your sentence is execution, and it may well be, then even I cannot save your life. But if you'll let me, I can help you die as Yagami Light, not as Kira. Would you like that?"

Light couldn't open his eyes. Invisible hands wrapped around his neck, crushing and squeezing until he could barely breathe.  _I deserve to be executed_ , he told himself.  _I don't deserve help._

"Will I be able to see my family?" he asked. 

"They can visit you, but your contact with the outside world will be very limited." 

_I'll get to see them again!_ As much as Light wanted to refuse on the grounds that he was unworthy, he could not force himself to say the words. Not when he could see his sister's face and hear his father's deep, steady voice. Not when he could spend even a minute held in his mothers arms, just like she used to hold him when he was a child. 

So he said, "I understand. I'm ready." 

 


	4. Rien ne s'efface (Nothing Fades)

Twelve days in a cell and Light didn't feel any change. He still wanted the Death Note. He still wanted names and faces to write down, the comfort that came with knowing one more criminal was gone for good. He wanted the comfort of his own bedroom at home, where he didn't feel like he was being watched. No, he didn't  _feel_ like he was being watched. He knew it. He could see the blinking lights on the surveillance cameras in every corner of his room, following his every move. If he so much as twitched an eye, Ryuzaki would know. 

Light lay down on his bed. He could fall asleep to pass the time, like he did most days, or he could make up stories in his head, or he could just close his eyes and listen to his own heart beat. Anything was better than just existing, waiting for changes he wasn't sure he could make. 

Ryuzaki's staticky voice came on over the intercom. "Would you mind if I asked you some questions now?"

Sighing, Light rolled onto his side. "Go ahead, I guess."

A laugh crackled from the speakers. "You either guess or you know, Light? Which one do you mean?"

"Ask me your damn questions," Light snapped. "I already told you I'm Kira."

"How?" It was the only question Ryuzaki asked with any consistency, always with the same soft, searching tone. For twelve days, Light had already refused to answer that, afraid to leave the Death Note in unfamiliar hands. He told himself he was protecting his father and the rest of the task force by keeping it a secret, but the truth was, he didn't think he could give it up. Not yet. It was his and his alone. It had  _chosen_ to be his, no matter what Ryuk said. 

Light clenched his jaw and said nothing. 

"Pity. Would anything make you tell me? Anything at all?"

 _Let me see my family already._ "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The intercom went silent.  _Ryuzaki_ went silent. Light heaved a sigh of relief, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He had a headache, but these headaches were his new normal. He would endure this for as long as it took, no matter the cost, for his sister's sake.  _For my father's sake, too. And my mother..._ He pictured them watching Ryuzaki's surveillance feeds in stunned, silent horror. 

The intercom crackled again. "Light?"

Light pretended to be asleep. 

"Light, are you awake?"

Light fought the urge to open his eyes.  _You won't see Ryuzaki. You won't see anyone._  

"Do you want some coffee, Light? I could have Aizawa bring you some coffee. Or... would you rather I bring it myself?"

Light ignored the way his heart skipped.  _I'm just tired,_ he told himself. It wasn't about Ryuzaki. He would have been happy to see anyone after twelve days of solitary confinement. He didn't even see people at mealtimes, forced to turn around and wait with his eyes closed while the little hatch opened and someone pushed a tray through. No doubt Ryuzaki meant it as a safety measure for the people outside, but Light would have been stupid to think it wasn't even a little bit to drive him insane. Whatever it was, it was working. Light would have been happy to see his fifth grade math teacher by now. 

"Can I pay you a visit, Light?" Ryuzaki continued, his voice sweet and melodic. 

Light thought,  _This guy must be trying to annoy me to death_. He said, "I can't stop you."

It only took ten minutes for Ryuzaki to enter the cell.  _He must have me locked up near headquarters_ , Light realized. He'd been blindfolded on the way here, another precaution against Kira. 

"Here." Ryuzaki held out a cup of coffee, which Light accepted gratefully. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

"No."

"You seem to sleep a lot, Light."

"Not well. I can't tell what time it is."

"I think that's for the best." Ryuzaki sipped his own coffee, holding the cup precariously between two fingers. Even standing, he had horrible posture, and he wore an outfit nearly identical to the one he'd worn to Light's interrogation. Or maybe it  _was_ identical. Light couldn't remember what he'd done when he woke up, let alone someone else's clothes nearly two weeks ago. 

Defeated, Light sat on his bed. The cup in his hands was hot enough to chase away the constant chill in the air. "I still feel like a killer," he confessed, and Ryuzaki smirked. 

"You  _are_ a killer. What, did you think you would find a cure for that here?"

Light's face felt hot. He took a sip of his coffee, stalling. 

Ryuzaki seemed unshaken by Light's sudden silence. "Whatever we do here, we cannot change what you've done."

"I know that," Light muttered.  _Do I?_  

"But since I do not believe in fate, there is a chance that we can change what you  _will_ do."

"I'm going to die," Light said. It wasn't a question. "I deserve it."

"Kira deserves it," Ryuzaki agreed. Despite himself, Light felt his heart sink. It was stupid, of course, to hope Ryuzaki of all people would offer mercy. Ryuzaki had a job to do: put Light where he could never hurt anyone ever again. If Light couldn't change, then it was just as well he be executed. 

But Ryuzaki wasn't finished with his thought. He fixed tranquil black eyes on Light and tipped his head toward his left shoulder, lost in his own mind.

"What is it?" Light asked, suddenly very conscious of the way Ryuzaki looked at him. 

"Tell me how you kill, Kira."

Light flinched. "I can't. I told you already."

"I don't believe you. Can't is different than won't. Try again."

Light swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. "I... Ryuzaki, if I tell you, how do I know you won't..."

"Won't what?"

"There's a notebook in evidence. It was with me when I drove here, so they took it. Did you look at it?"

Ryuzaki nodded. "The one with all the names. Your kill list, if you will. Funny rules you wrote on the inside cover. I was very amused."

Light shook his head, clutching the coffee cup so tightly that it hurts his fingers. "It's not just a list, Ryuzaki. That's the murder weapon. The book. The notebook. The instructions inside are... They're not fake. I didn't put them there."

Brows furrowed, Ryuzaki leaned closer. Light could see himself reflected in those eyes. "You killed hundreds of criminals with... a notebook?"

"No," Light said. "Not a notebook. A Death Note."

 

 


	5. J'errais dans l'erreur (I Wandered in Error)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title comes from "La rue nous appartient" (still on the 1789 theme).

As Light explained the Death Note (with as few details as possible), Ryuzaki had the bagged evidence brought in. He put on a pair of latex gloves to sort through the pile until, at last, he found what he was looking for. 

"He won't see anything," said a rough voice behind Light. Light jumped and spun around in his chair, heart pounding.  _I told you to stay away,_ Light wanted to scream. If Ryuzaki's bare skin touched the Death Note, even accidentally, another piece of Kira's puzzle would fall into place. Light was not ready to let that happen. He thought,  _Ryuk is_ my _secret_ , and immediately felt a rush of shame. 

Ryuzaki coughed, catching Light's attention. "What's the matter? Is something there?"

Light forced himself to turn away from Ryuk, aware of the Shinigami's eyes on the back of his neck like two points of ice. "Nothing," he lied. "I thought I felt something touch my hair."

"Hmm." Ryuzaki seemed unconvinced. "Is this the notebook?"

Through a haze of panic, Light pretended to study the Death Note, as if he hadn't already memorized every flaw on every page. Though his mind knew the dangers of the notebook, his body wanted to take it back and write another name, another twenty names. Twelve days without writing. Twelve days without killing. As much as Light hated to admit it, he wanted to kill.  _Disgusting._ He wanted to be a god again. 

All he said was, "That's it."

Ryuzaki frowned, turning the book over in his gloved hands. He flipped through the pages, scanning list upon list of names, times, and causes of death. "It doesn't look like much. This is how you kill?"

"Yes."

"And these rules." Ryuzaki held up the inside cover. "Are they real?"

"Yes."

"Who gave you this book?"

Light looked down at his hands. "No one. I found it, that's all." 

Unconvinced, Ryuzaki pressed his lips into a thin, pale line and placed the book on the table. Light resisted the urge reach out and line the edges up with the edges of the table, digging his nails into his palms instead. He stared down at the Death Note, imagining how easily he could take it right here, right now, and write down a name. No, it was  _too_ easy. Ryuzaki didn't play games of cat-and-mouse. This was a test. Nauseated, Light sat back in his chair, putting as much distance between himself and the notebook as possible.  _I won't cave. I won't cave. I won't cave. I won't cave. I won't cave. I won't cave._

"Get it away from me," Light growled. "Please."

Ryuzaki pushed the book across the table. "Why?"

"Just get it away!" Light swept his arm across the table, throwing the Death Note onto the floor. He heard Ryuk's screaming laughter behind him and Ryuzaki's short, startled gasp of air, but most of all he heard his own blood roaring in his ears. He felt every beat of his heart inside his chest, each one harder and more agonizing than the last. Whatever he did, he would  _not_ pick up the Death Note. Whatever he did, he would not kill. 

Slowly, deliberately, Ryuzaki crept across the room and picked up the Death Note between his thumb and forefinger. "How do I know this isn't a trick to throw the investigation off course?" he asked. "How do I know the real murder weapon isn't hidden somewhere else? Shall I test this book, then, Light? Kira?"

Breathing hard, Light closed his eyes. "No! If you use that book, there's no going back. That book... It takes everything from you. Everything. Your friends, your family, your own mind. You think you control the book, but it's the book that controls you. Please, get it out of here. I can't... All I want is to write down another name, picture another face, and watch another criminal die. It's all I've thought about since—"

Ryuk snorted with laughter, making Light flinch.  _Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._

"—since you called in the evidence. You'll end up like me, Ryuzaki."

"What do you mean?" Something in Ryuzaki's eyes made Light want to cry. Was it pity? Compassion?

"You'll end up a monster."

The evidence back crinkled as Ryuzaki dropped the Death Note back inside. "Depending on who you ask, I already am a monster," he said softly.

Light couldn't bear to look Ryuzaki in the eyes. "Believe me. You don't know what a real monster is."

Out of sight, Ryuk flapped his wings once, sending a gust of icy wind through the cell. A shiver ran down Light's spine and he saw Ryuzaki tense, looking around for the source of the chill. There were no windows, the door was closed, and nothing in the cell could have caused a wind strong enough to toss Light's hair and pull at the sleeves on Ryuzaki's oversized white shirt. Terror swelled in Light's chest, colder than the wind, darker than the shadow Ryuk now cast over the cell. 

"Maybe not," said Ryuzaki, his tone flat and even. "Have you?"

No use pretending anymore. "Yes."

"Then you'll have to show me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter--> Following Sayu.


	6. Tant pis, je mise tout (Screw it, I'm all in)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's title is from "Je mise tout" (another 1789 song, I'm so sorry).

The longer her brother's confinement and interrogation dragged on, the more Sayu dreaded going to school. She felt eyes following her down every hall and into every classroom, making her feel like a rat in a maze. Every single one of them knew. They knew who Sayu was, who her brother was, and what her brother had done. They knew Kira. Some of them had written anonymously in support of Kira and his sadistic crusade. Those were the ones Sayu wanted to avoid. She didn't want friends if they were only in it because of Kira. 

On her third day back at school (and Light's thirteenth day of confinement), Sayu sat at the very back of the chemistry classroom, head bowed over her notebook. She wore her hair down to make a curtain in front of her face.  _Let them look. They won't see anything_. Her grip on her pencil tightened so much that it hurt her fingers, but she didn't let go. She couldn't let go. If she just kept her head down and kept taking notes, she could pretend she was just a normal schoolgirl with a normal family. She could pretend her brother wasn't the world's most infamous killer. 

By some miracle, Sayu got through first, second, and third period without talking to a single person. At lunch, she hid in a corner stall of the girls' bathroom on the fourth floor, too afraid to show her face in the cafeteria. It was better to be hungry than it was to be Kira's Little Sister. 

Fifth period, Sayu left class to cry in the third floor girls' bathroom. Even though it was empty, she locked herself in the last stall and sat on the septic tank against the wall, hiding her feet by resting them on the lid of the toilet. Briefly, Sayu considered calling her parents and begging to go home. She couldn't do this. She couldn't go to school here anymore. Everyone knew who she was and it was so much worse than when no one even knew her name. Everywhere she turned, someone wanted to ask her about her brother. Was he good or evil? Vigilante hero or heartless criminal? God or devil?  _How am I supposed to know?_ Sayu wanted to scream at them all, tell them she didn't know anything, that her brother was as good as a stranger to her now that she couldn't see him. 

The bathroom door swung open. Footsteps advanced toward Sayu's stall, followed by three gentle taps. Sayu held her breath. 

"Is someone there?" asked a girl's voice, distantly familiar. 

Sayu struggled to keep back another sob.  _Please go away. Please go away. Please go away_. The girl did not go away. 

"Hello? Are you okay?"

"Go away!" Sayu snapped. Saying it felt awful. "I just want to be left alone."

The girl's voice continued, soft and sweet. "There's no one here but me. You can come out if you want."

Temptation pushed Sayu toward the door, but she resisted its sway. What if it was a trick? What if there were twelve girls waiting outside that door to interrogate her the way the police were surely interrogating her brother right now? What if they had their phone cameras so they could put Kira's Little Sister on Youtube for the rest of the world to laugh at. 

Against her better judgment, Sayu opened the door. 

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice tiny and weak from crying. 

 _I know you!_ She recognized the girl standing outside the stall from a few of her classes. Nozomi, a willowy, graceful girl with a smile brighter than the moon. She was shorter than Sayu by at least four inches, but she carried herself like she was taller. Sayu liked that, strangely enough, almost as much as she liked the sound of Nozomi's voice. 

Nozomi ran a hand through long, blue-streaked hair. "I wanted to make sure you're okay."

Butterflies jumped to life in Sayu's stomach. "Really? It's not a trick?"

"Really."

"And you aren't just here because of..."

"Light?" Nozomi guessed. Sayu noticed that she called him Light, not Kira. Everyone else called him Kira now. 

"Yeah. I've had more than a few people want to be friends because of Light," Sayu said. She felt sick saying it. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Nozomi said, putting her hand on Sayu's elbow. Her hand was soft and warm. "We never have to talk about Light if you don't want to. Promise. It's not fair, the way other people are treating you."

Sayu laughed humorlessly. "Why not? He's a fucked up serial killer."

"Maybe." It was neither agreement nor disagreement. "But you aren't. He's Light and you're Sayu, right? You aren't him and he isn't you."

"But he taught me everything when we were kids. What if some of that's come off on me?" Sayu was crying again, hot tears streaking her face. Nozomi's hand on her elbow tightened, a single, reassuring squeeze before she let go. 

"Are you going to history?"

Sayu admitted that she hadn't been planning on it. Most of history was spent talking about Kira now, a topic Sayu wanted to stay far, far away from. It was bad enough that she had to listen to the news every night, reporter after reporter sharing theories and opinions on the mysterious Kira—no, Yagami Light. Was he a deranged, ruthless monster or a misunderstood young man misguided by his tragic longing for justice? What could have made him turn himself in? Why now? Who was this bizarre detective L leading the case? What punishments lay in store for Kira? Sayu preferred not to think about it. 

"Me neither," Nozomi said, winking and flashing Sayu a bright, conspiratorial smile. "How do you feel about cutting class together?"

"I... I'd like that." 

"Great. Next question: Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee," Sayu decided. She desperately needed coffee. 

"Let's get going, then." Nozomi held out her hand, which Sayu took. "I know a way out without getting in trouble. You in?"

 _This is such a bad idea_ , Sayu thought. It was against at least three school rules, against her parents' principles, and against her own principles. Skipping class was one thing, but skipping class outside of the school building? That was a whole other level of risky, one that Sayu was afraid to cross. She could get in trouble if she got caught, and then everyone would think she was exactly like Light: a troublemaker and a bad seed. But then again, Light had never skipped class, not once. Maybe this was Sayu's way out of being Kira's little sister. Maybe this was her chance to be different. Maybe it was—

"Screw it," Sayu said as she followed Nozomi out of the building. "I'm done caring about what other people think."


	7. Mes serments de jeunesse (My Youthful Oaths)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little thing: The ages are a bit different for storytelling's sake. Light is 18, L is 21 (barely old enough to drink in America but old enough to be a world-famous detective—meant to mirror Light's status of being a freshman in college and also a notorious serial killer), Mello is 19, and Near is 16. Sayu is also 16. Since I'm following the musical storyline a little more than the anime/manga, and since it's an AU, I'm changing up the ages a bit. It's not that noticeable, I think?

"I don't know what you expect me to do."

L turned toward the doorway where Mello hovered like a bad omen. Maybe asking for Mello's help was a mistake. Of all people, L thought Mello might be able to talk Light out whatever it was keeping him silent, but now... Now he wondered if anything would get Light talking. Mello could poke and prod at Light's defenses until the cows came home, and he'd do it, but Light could hold out just as long as Mello could persist, if not longer. 

And it had been so long since L and Mello last saw each other. Mello seemed different somehow—older, certainly, but distant, too. Scars ran up and down his arms, some fresher than others, each one betraying battles L knew Mello didn't want to talk about. L couldn't help but feel guilty. He couldn't help but think of Mello as a kid, an innocent shoved too suddenly into a murderous world that snapped and clawed and tried to eat him alive. It was L's fault, then, for leaving when he did. He should have waited another year, at least until he could find someone suitable to be Mello's partner. This was too much for Mello to handle, surely, and L should have known. He shouldn't have forced Mello out the door so quickly. 

 _Like they did to me._ The thought flooded L's mouth with a bitter taste not unlike blood. Mello stepped into the living room and L caught sight of a healing bullet wound on Mello's left shoulder. He forced himself to look away before the sight made him sick. 

"He's a killer," Mello continued coolly, dragging a gloved hand over a framed picture of L, Mello, and Near outside their childhood home. "This is dusty, by the way."

"I know."

"Figures. But what do you expect me to do with a killer? If you haven't cracked him, no one can."

L shrugged. "It's not cracking him I'm worried about. He's cracked. I already know that he is, without a doubt, Kira."

"Then what do I do here? I have my own cases."

Another pang of guilt ran through L. "Yes, I know. I'm very sorry to take up so much of your time, but you know I wouldn't have called if I didn't think it absolutely necessary to—"

"L, don't," Mello interrupted. "It's fine. Frankly, I don't mind taking a bit of a break."

L crouched in a chair by the window. "Does this have anything to do with that?" He pointed at the bullet wound, which he had made up his mind not to mention. Mello startled, glancing toward the injury as if he had forgotten it was even there. 

"This? It's nothing. I'm not some whiny fucking crybaby like Near, okay?" But even as he said it, Mello winced in pain. "These things heal."

L didn't doubt that. What he doubted was that scars like those came from being careful. Mello had always approached his work with the childish and reckless belief that he could beat whatever he faced, that nothing in the world could take him down. One day, L thought, Mello might find himself up against something he couldn't face. What would he do then?

"Do you think you can talk to Light?" L asked, anxious to find a new subject, one that didn't leave him feeling guilty. 

For a moment, Mello looked lost in thought, and then he nodded his head slowly. L tried not to think about the wide-eyed, sweet Mello that Watari had brought home from his travels in Eastern Europe. He tried to forget how Watari had called L into his office and told Mello,  _This is your big brother. L. L is going to look after you from now on._ He tried to forget how he had promised he would. 

Mello said, "Tell me what you know about him. How can I get through to him if even you can't?"

L put his hands in his pockets. "His name is Yagami Light, he's eighteen years old, he's a university student in his freshman year—or he should be—and he is Kira."

Mello looked unimpressed. "Why'd he turn himself in? That's the part I don't get. He had everything going for him, didn't he? Promising future, perfect family, perfect façade. Why would a guy like that—a killer—hand himself over to the police?"

"He has a little sister," L murmured. "An idealist. You know, she still comes here every day after school and asks to see him. We've turned her away every single time and she keeps coming back."

Silence fell between them, heavy and cold, until Mello said, "I almost understand why he turned himself in."

"So do I," L admitted. "That's why I need you to help me. I don't want you to go in as Detective M. I want you to go in as Mello, my brother. Tell him... I don't know. Tell him anything you want as long as you get him talking. Is that all right?"

"Should I lie to him?" Mello asked. L flinched, imagining what would happen if he sent Mello in to lie. 

"No, he's too intelligent for that. But it's your choice as to how much you want to tell him. All right?"

Mello chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Finally, softly, he said, "Take me to him. The early bird catches the worm, right?"

L wanted to remind Mello of the rest of the saying:  _But the second mouse gets the cheese_. In the face of interrogating a serial killer, however, the saying sounded ludicrous.

L kept his mouth shut and led Mello to Yagami Light's cell. 


	8. Vivre en enfer (To Live in Hell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is also from 1789. "Je vous rends mon âme."

Surely, Light thought, visitors were not part of Ryuzaki's plan. And yet here he sat, and here this other guy sat, staring at each other in uncomfortable silence, raking their eyes over every detail, every flaw they could find in one another. Light tried to ignore the fact that this visitor was beautiful, tall and blond with eyes the color of Homer's wine-dark sea. If Light looked long enough, he thought he could see something stirring in the fathoms of those eyes, waiting in the blue for an opportunity to strike. The thought frightened him as much as it enticed him. 

"Who are you?" Light asked. 

His visitor waved one hand dismissively and said, "Typical. Fucking typical. You got any siblings?"

Light's eyes widened. He fought for control of his expression. "S-siblings? You mean Ryuzaki's your—"

"Brother. Yes. I'm Mello." Mello sat in the one chair in Light's cell, graceful as a cat. When he offered his hand, Light shook it, aware that this was likely a trap, but too stir-crazy to care. So what if it was a trap? He wasn't getting out of here, anyway. 

"I'm Light," Light said, though he was sure Mello already knew. 

"Kira, isn't it?" He said it like it was nothing, but Light saw the hungry way those eyes searched his own. Ryuzaki did nothing without reason, without caution, without planning, so the chances that he would let in any old visitor were slim. Even if that visitor was his own brother. He gained something from Mello speaking to Light, but what? 

Behind him, Light heard Ryuk laugh.  _Go away, go away, go away, go away._

He lowered his eyes. "I'd prefer Light, thank you." 

Ryuk laughed again, louder this time, more insistent. This was still a game to him. Light was still his favorite pawn. Did that make Ryuzaki the king and Mello his faithful knight? Red rosary beads hung around Mello's neck, a cross glinting silver in the fluorescent lights. Did that make him Ryuzaki's bishop, then? Ryuzaki did not strike Light as a man of God. 

"What do you want?" Light demanded. He wasn't in the mood for games anymore. 

"Just to talk." Mello's fingers twisted around the cross. He smiled a sharp, white-toothed smile. "You like to talk, right?"

Light shook his head, the roaring of blood in his ears drowning out Ryuk's laughter at last.  _Not anymore_. 

"Come on, it has to get lonely in here. All by yourself, no one but my big brother coming to see you." Mello cast a theatrical look toward the nearest camera. "So. You got any siblings?"

"One." It didn't hurt to say what Ryuzaki already knew. 

"Older or younger?"

"Younger."

Mello snapped his fingers, jumping to his feet. "Hey, wasn't there a girl out by the desk when I came in? She kept asking to see you, but I figured she was just a groupie or something. You know how serial killers get those groupies? Never understood that myself. But I'd bet you  _anything_ that girl was your sister."

 _So_ this _is your game_ , Light thought. Anger flared in his chest, hot and stabbing like a knife. He wished once again for the Death Note, so he could write Mello's name in it and then watch as the life left those gleaming blue eyes. 

"Steady there," Ryuk chided. "You don't even know his real name."

Screw his real name. Light didn't need a name and a face to kill Mello, not if he wanted to. He could still get up right now, put his hands around Mello's neck, and squeeze until he felt him die. Until he was sure Mello would never talk again, let alone talk about Sayu like she was some puppet in the investigation, a piece of evidence like the Death Note or a strand of hair. He could kill him in all kinds of creative ways, just as long as they were quick. He had only as long as it would take Ryuzaki to send in some guards to stop him. But he could do it. He was Yagami Light. 

He was  _Kira_. 

As quickly as it came, the anger dissipated and guilt flooded into the cracks it left behind. Tears stung Light's eyes, rolling down his cheeks in a steady stream. What was he doing? If he had only killed for justice, why was it so hard to let go now? Why couldn't he stop wanting to kill? Why couldn't he stop wanting to play at being God? Why couldn't he stop imagining what it would be like to kill Mello with his bare hands? 

If Ryuzaki had sent Mello in to remind Light that he was a monster, it worked like a charm. More than ever, Light recognized the things he'd tried to hard to ignore. He needed help. If he wanted to wash away Kira, then he had to let Ryuzaki help him. He couldn't do it alone. 

"Get Ryuzaki," he said hoarsely. Humiliation painted his face bright red. "I'll tell him whatever he wants."

Mello turned and left the room, leaving Light alone with Ryuk and the security cameras. He glanced up at one, hoping Ryuzaki was watching right now so that he could hear what Light had to say next. 

"Just help me," he whispered. "Please."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Actually getting into "Ryuzaki" helping Light in exchange for information about the Death Note. I hope this is entertaining so far!


	9. À rester sans voix (Remaining Voiceless)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This title comes from the song "Les mots que l'on ne dit pas." Also from "1789."

“When you kill,” said Ryuzaki, leaning forward ever so slightly. “How does it make you feel?”

Light didn’t dare look up. He hated how the thought of killing got his blood racing. “Good,” he admitted at last. “I like it.”

“And how does _that_ make you feel?” Ryuzaki pressed. “Knowing that you _like_ killing… Does it make you feel like a monster or a god?”

Disgusted, Light swallowed a wave of nausea. He felt so many things now that it was impossible to choose just one—sick, anxious, shaky, cold, hot, angry, desperate, afraid. When he forced himself to meet Ryuzaki’s eyes, he wondered what it would be like to watch the detective die. Would his death satisfy some sick part of Light’s heart? Yes. Without a doubt, yes. Without a doubt, Light wanted to kill Ryuzaki.

The thought made him sick.

Ryuzaki waited until Light was done throwing up to say, “Something changed just now.”

Breathless, Light hissed, “Shut up.”

“Is Kira angry with me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Light growled, realizing only too late that he had not told Ryuzaki not to call him Kira. The flash of triumph in Ryuzaki’s black eyes brought another violent surge of nausea, which Light fought down. He would _not_ show Ryuzaki how weak he was.

 “Good. I want Kira to be angry with me. If you would, Kira, tell me how it feels now that you can’t kill.”

 _Like I’m dying_. “Fine.” It was a lie. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Ryuzaki’s lips quirked into a little smile. “You mean to tell me you vomited because you’re all right? Was it guilt or was it something else? Are you sick with grief or are you sick with longing?”

 _Both._ “I’m _fine_ , Ryuzaki. Please, let’s just go back to your other questions.”

“Very well. The first time you killed, how did you feel?"

Light didn't want to think about that. Frightened, he supposed, and guilty, but... once that had worn off, he'd felt strong. He'd felt giddy with excitement, giddy with both killing and knowing he could get away with it. And then hadn't he felt exhausted as the energy ran out of him? Hadn't he itched to kill again? Wasn't that why he had done it? 

Ryuzaki put his thumb between his teeth and bit down gently, a familiar gesture by now. "Did you need to kill again?"

"I don't... Maybe."

"You needed to kill more criminals each time, didn't you? To feel that same thrill?"

Light nodded, knowing perfectly well how this made him look. He was already guilty, but now he looked guilty  _and_ pathetic. Like an addict struggling time after time to stitch his shattered life back together, forever falling through the cracks. He prayed, for the first time in too long, that he would never have the chance to slip up, to kill again. Next time, he didn't think he would be able to stop.

"Do you want me to save you, Light?" Ryuzaki asked. The softness of his tone took Light by surprise. "Or will you be able to save yourself? I cannot do everything. After all, Kira and his crimes are a part of  _you_ , not me. I am merely your guide."

"My Virgil?" Light felt himself laughing, though it wasn't really funny. 

Ryuzaki offered another tiny smile. "Is that how you see me? Are you Dante, then?"

No. Light was not the hero of a religious epic, led through Hell by a wise and long-dead poet. He was nothing more than a murderer, nothing less than a monster. And now he had to give up his last shred of dignity, the persistence that he could have stopped at any moment, that he could have controlled the desire to kill the way he controlled caffeine cravings after four in the afternoon, or the way he ignored the urge to listen to one song again and again until the repetition made him want to tear his own skin off. Those things he could live without. Light no longer believed he could live without killing, not if he didn't let Ryuzaki help him. 

"Something's wrong with me," he said. What an idiotic thing to say. Obviously there was something wrong with someone who  _needed_ to kill the way he did. 

Gingerly, Ryuzaki pushed back his chair and set his feet on the ground one after the other. "Light came here for help."

"Yes."

"And you recognize, don't you Light, that you cannot do this alone?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me again, what is it about killing that attracts you?"

That word, _attracts_ , sent a thrill of revulsion through Light. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. "It makes me feel alive. When I kill... When I  _killed_ , I knew deep down it was wrong. I told myself it was all right as long as I only killed criminals, but I did it because I wanted to see what would happen first. It wasn't morality or wanting a better world. It was wanting to test the Death Note, to see if it would work."

"Addiction begins in strange ways," Ryuzaki said, sounding like a poet at last struck by the muses. "But addiction ends. It will not be easy and you must want to be helped very badly, but..."

Light didn't dare hold onto hope. "But?"

"Rehabilitation is not out of the question. Does that sound agreeable enough to you?"

Rehabilitation. A chance at being normal again, or as close to it as Light could get to being who he was before Kira. 

"More than agreeable," he said. 

Ryuzaki turned to leave, but before his hand reached the doorknob, Light called out for him to wait. He turned back, his eyes wide and questioning, and Light felt silly all of a sudden. Why had he called Ryuzaki back? Why couldn't he bear the thought of him leaving? He had been all right with Mello's departure. In fact, he had  _welcomed_ Mello's departure from the cell with relief. But Ryuzaki... Light wanted Ryuzaki to stay. 

He said none of this. 

"I..." Instead, he said simply, "Thank you."


	10. Je vais rêver mon sort (I Will Dream My Fate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from the song (from 1789, of course) "Pic et pic."

That Kira was the result of a dangerous addiction made sense to L. That Kira was the result of a dangerous addiction brought into fruition by a Shinigami, on the other hand, did not. To accept Shinigami meant that L would need to rewrite the rules of the universe one by one until they gave way for something so... so  _fantastical_. Truly, it felt like a flight of fancy, this idea that there were gods of death presiding over mortal deaths. Death, to L, had always seemed so natural and orderly. People died when they died, not a moment sooner, not a moment later. There were no gods choosing whom to kill and whom to let live. 

And now all this melted away in the terrible flapping of invisible wings. 

"Tell me again," L said. "About the Shinigami."

"All of them?"

"The one that follows you. What is his name?"

Light glanced to his side, his eyes fixed on something—or someone—L could not see. "H-his name is Ryuk."

"Ryuk," L repeated. "And the notebook is his?"

"Was. Once it touched down on Earth, it belonged to whoever found it first."

"And that was you."

Light nodded, making a tiny humming sound. He looked guilty, though L had not yet asked him about his kills. L found more and more that he didn't  _need_ to ask Light about Kira's kills. Those followed Light wherever he went, whatever he did, driving him to the brink of madness only to pull him back again so he could suffer another day of agonizing remorse. L's heart broke for Light, an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling. 

"When you touched the book, did you feel anything?" L didn't know why he asked. He already knew what Light had said a hundred times: that he had felt nothing, nothing at all at that first touch. But L liked the way Light responded to that question nonetheless, brows furrowed, lips twisted into a frown. Light looked very interesting like that, though L could not put his finger on why. 

Light sighed, shifting his hands to ease the pressure of the handcuffs digging into his wrists. "Nothing. I felt nothing."

"I see."

The handcuffs clicked together, drawing L's attention to the way Light fidgeted, picking at the skin around his fingernails.  _He didn't do that before_ , L thought. As each day passed without killing, L supposed Light was devolving, falling into a sort of restless, anxious melancholy that could only be eased by a kill. The way an addict suffered until they could satiate their desire, whatever it was, Yagami Light seemed to suffer more and more as the weeks dragged on. But he could not kill again. That much L knew for certain. If Light got a taste of blood again, a taste of human life slipping through his fingers, he would never stop. 

"When I..." Light swallowed hard, his eyes darting from one thing to the next, unable to hold still. "When I killed, I felt... I felt so much. I felt so  _alive_ , Ryuzaki. Have... have you ever killed anyone?"

L admitted that he had not. "But I can imagine it's—"

"No, you can't." Light's eyes lit up then. "You can try, but you'll never know what it's like to know that someone's life rests in your hands. That someone's life has ended because you willed it so."

"And you liked that."

Light looked ashamed. "Yes."

"Even though it was wrong?"

"I... Yes. Maybe even  _because_ it was wrong."

"Oh. I see." What else could L say? "Did you never think you would get caught?"

A shadow passed over Light's face, quick and nearly imperceptible. "Once. I thought I would be caught once, when Dad told me about the British detective on the case. L, I think. Yeah, his name was L."

Fighting the urge to smile, L leaned forward. "Oh? Tell me about L, then, Light. What did you think of him?"

"I wanted to kill him."

"Did you?"

"Yes." As soon as he said it, Light flinched like he had been slapped, shying away from whatever it was he'd fixed his eyes upon earlier. Almost certainly, then, the Shinigami was here.

Enough of L, then, L decided. It was better that Light didn't know. "Is the Shinigami still here?" he asked. Light nodded. 

"Yes."

"Are you comfortable talking in front of him, or shall we ask him to leave?" L tried to see if there was something next to Light he was missing, but he saw nothing. A moment passed and then Light relaxed visibly, closing his eyes. 

"He's gone," he whispered. His voice broke on the sharp edge of tears. Then he started to sob, his body shaking with what looked almost light laughter. Was his relief really so immense now that Ryuk was gone? Was it the Shinigami who had turned Yagami Light into Kira, or had he merely awakened some secret, hidden part of Light's soul with a thirst for blood? 

L drummed his fingers on his knee. "What was he doing that made you so tense?"

A look of deadly calm spread over Light's face as he said, "He was laughing."

Light said no more that day. 

*_*_*_*_*

 

 

The next morning, L had Light moved into a more comfortable place of confinement. During Light's imprisonment, he had built (or, rather, had found other people to build  _for_ him) a house outside of the city, miles away from other people who might get in the way. Although this place was meant to give Light enough freedom for L to freely and properly study his behaviors, there were rules. Along with these rules were cameras, locks, and at least a dozen ways to subdue Light if it came down to a fight. This was, after all, a prison for a very dangerous young man. 

"You will not leave the house. I am loath to let you leave my sight, you understand. If you begin to get stir crazy, I will take you for a walk."

Light laughed drily. "Like your loyal dog?"

"Hmm." L bit the tip of his thumb. "No. I am very fond of dogs. I don't know how fond I am of you, Kira."

A look of betrayal crossed Light's face. "I've told you a million times, my name is Light."

"Is it?" L pressed, stepping closer to Light so he could better examine his expression. "Kira."

"Ryuzaki..." Light began, but he never finished. Instead he turned and stared out the window with the look of someone who had not set eyes on sunlit grass in a thousand years. In a way, L supposed, Light  _was_ such a person. Those months in a tiny cell must have felt like several lifetimes of waiting. This house was worth the effort just for the look on Light's face. 

 _What the hell is the matter with me?_ L asked himself.  _Yagami Light is Kira. Kira. Kira. Kira. Kira. Never forget that._

Shaking the clouds from his head, L continued. "Your family may visit you once a week if I feel you and I have made sufficient progress. You will meet with any specialist I recruit. You may have to endure psychological examinations, which you  _will_ endure. Do not forget, Yagami Light, that you are a serial killer."

More than anything, L was reminding himself. 

"Don't worry about that. I'll never forget." Guilt. That was guilt on Light's face, wasn't it? He looked like he might throw up, which L felt no inclination to watch again. But Light did not throw up. He simply lowered his eyes to L's, his gaze steady and... Was that gratitude? No. No, it couldn't be. There wasn't a world in which L could fathom Light feeling any sort of gratitude toward him, not when he had locked Light in a cell, asked him countless questions, and forced him to weave a haunting tapestry of Kira's crimes. Of Kira's deepest thoughts, his darkest desires. Not when L had made empty promises and kept Light from his family just to see if that would be enough to break Kira's spirits. No, it couldn't be gratitude. 

L went into the kitchen and started the tea kettle, Light following after him. 

"How do you know I won't try to escape?" he asked. 

L smiled. "Oh, I don't." He took out a pair of handcuffs on a long chain and held one end out to Light. "But these do."

Sullenly, Light fastened the cuff to his wrist as L did the same. 

"Tea?" L offered. Tea, he thought, might soften the blow. "You look tired."

Light leaned against the kitchen counter, the chain clattering as he moved. "No, thank you."

"Believe me when I say this is not my idea of fun."

"I know," Light said. 

"Do you? Because I want to assure you that this isn't a game to me. I am as committed to helping you as you are to helping yourself." L didn't know why, but he needed Light to know. He needed to be sure Light didn't think of him as cruel. 

Light nodded. He tried to cross his arms, ran into the chain, and settled for gripping one elbow with one hand. "I know, Ryuzaki. Thank you."

"My name..." This was a terrible idea. Even before the words left his mouth, he knew he might regret saying, "My name is L."

 


	11. À quoi tu danses? (Why Are You Dancing?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is also a lyric from "1789," but the song title is the same as the chapter title, so I won't write it out.

"My name is L," said Ryuzaki, and Light's heart sank into the floor.

For a minute—or an hour—all Light did was stare. He must have looked horrified, pale and wide-eyed, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. How could Ryuzaki be L? Light had pictured someone... wholly  _other_ than the man standing in front of him now. L was supposed to be older than this, dignified, perhaps with dark hair prematurely streaked with grey. He was supposed to be dashing. Instead he was... Ryuzaki. Light considered Ryuzaki's face, which he was already so used to, and wondered if he simply didn't  _want_ Ryuzaki to be L. L was meant to be Kira's enemy. Ryuzaki was supposed to be Light's friend. Or... at least Light  _wanted_ Ryuzaki to be his friend. 

He fumbled with his image of L, trying to align it with the L standing right in front of him. This L was tall and pale and too thin, his eyes large and black as volcanic rock. Black hair fell around his face, messy almost to the point of being charming. In his own way, Ryuzaki—no,  _L_ —was handsome. Not the way Light had expected L to be, but handsome nonetheless. And now that Light thought about it, there could be no one besides L  _this_ interested in rehabilitating the infamous Kira, even if Kira was just a young man addicted to power. Even if Kira was just, as Ryuk liked to say,  _Yagami Light playing his dangerous game_. 

"You..." Light struggled for words. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden, his throat scratchy. 

"I am L," L repeated. 

"I heard," Light said. He hated how his voice trembled. He tried to pace the length of the kitchen, but quickly found himself at the end of the chain's slack. Rubbing his sore wrist, Light leaned against the counter again and tried not to look sullen. 

Overhead, Ryuk drifted through the ceiling. "The plot thickens."

Light bit his tongue. He would not talk to Ryuk in front of L. 

"Then again, I guess you already knew who he was, didn't you? I mean, you're sharp as a whip, aren't you? Sharp as anything, isn't that right? Sharp as... as... oh, I know! Sharp as a knife. Sharp as... oh, what about a pencil? Or a pen. Sounds about right. Sharp as a pencil, since it's how you took them all out, isn't it Kira?"

Every cell in Light's body screamed at him to put a stop to Ryuk's incessant needling, but he stood still. He stood so still his muscles ached with the effort, trying hopelessly to ignore the Shinigami's taunts.  _I can live with this_ , he told himself sternly.  _I can live with this. This is nothing. Compared to that cell, this is nothing. I can live through anything now. I can—_

"Not talking, huh? Too bad." Ryuk peered through one of the kitchen walls. "There's all sorts of wires in here. Guess he doesn't trust you."

 _Of course he doesn't. I killed people_. Light gave Ryuk the key to his thoughts, if only for a moment.  _Now will you shut up?_

Glancing between Light and L, Ryuk cackled. "Oh, I see. I see. You've got a bad case, haven't you? Nothing you wouldn't do to convince this L guy you're serious about changing. You can fool him. You can fool yourself all you like. But you'll never fool me. You're a killer. You've always  _been_ a killer. That Death Note didn't turn you into one. Not in a million years. Takes a special kind of sick bastard to use the Death Note the way you did. If you ask me, you'd have found your way to killing sooner or later, with or without me. One of these days you'd get just a little too mad and that'd be it. You'd be a killer. Only you wouldn't be  _Kira_. You wouldn't get that dignity. You'd just be a damn—"

"For the love of—shut up already!" Light shouted. 

Silence. Ryuk was gone. 

Smiling the ghost of a smile, L looked around. "Your Shinigami friend, I assume?"

"He's not my friend," Light growled. "He's just here to remind me."

"Of what?" L asked, twirling his hair around his slender fingers. 

"Why I need to change."

 


	12. La mort et le devoir (Death and Duty)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the song "Nous ne sommes," which is also from 1789.

News of the unthinkable reached the world on a Saturday afternoon—that a second Kira had appeared and that this Kira was far less particular about his kills than the original. He struck when he wanted and killed any criminal, no matter how trivial the crime seemed. Even a jaywalker got caught up in this Kira's web, though L wondered if that one wasn't an accident. Perhaps this Kira still did not know the full extent of his powers? Or, since it seemed this Kira could kill with only a face, was he acting too soon to learn the answers to unposed questions? Did he kill before he knew the crime? What would the first Kira say to that, then? 

"Nothing," Light growled through clenched teeth. "I have nothing to say. Whoever he is, he's an idiot."

"Is that what he is?" L goaded. "I would have thought he was a monster, but  _you_ chose 'idiot' instead."

Light bared his teeth like a raccoon in a trap. "Another test. Shouldn't you be catching this guy?"

 _That isn't how this works_ , L thought. He said, "That is...  _not_ how this works."

Light looked merely annoyed, picking at the skin around his nails like a petulant child. For all of L's hypotheses that Kira was childish and hated to lose, he had to admit that Light was even more so than he could have imagined. Whenever Light made tea, L made a note of the way Light drummed and drummed his long fingers on the kitchen counter, anxious for the five minutes of steeping time to be up before he even set a timer. The power to kill in hands like this... it had been nothing less than devastating. L would hate to see that power returned. He would hate to see Kira rise up out of the ashes like a phoenix. Surely, if that happened, the world would burn to the ground. 

"I don't care about the second Kira," Light pressed on. "I can't care about the second Kira without having to think about what it was like when I was the first Kira."

"You  _are_ the first Kira," L corrected. "Once a killer, always a killer, isn't that so?"

Light grimaced. "I don't know."

"I interrupted you. How rude of me." The truth was, L was anxious to keep Light talking. Moments of candor like these were few and far between, like rare and precious gems. Once Light began to talk, L wondered what he wouldn't do to _keep_ him talking. The thought scared him a little. 

But if Light noticed anything amiss, he let it go. "If I... If I  _let_ myself spiral like that again, I don't know if I'll be able to stop. Sayu brought me back once. She brought me back before I had the chance to completely lose myself in being Kira, in calling myself the god of the new world. She reminded me of who I am, who I want to be. I won't forget that. Not again. And if I think about this second Kira, or if I try to get inside his head, what if I lose control? What would you do with me then?"

L barely had to consider it. "I would stop you."

"You mean you would kill me." Anger danced in his voice, a nearly imperceptible tremor. "You could  _try._ "

And just like that, it was as if Light disappeared. Kira stood before L—a marvel: something more than man and less than god. Kira was a whirlwind, a forest fire, a force to be reckoned with. Even without his notebook, Kira was dangerous. Deadly, perhaps, given the opportunity to strike.

L said, "Come back to me, Light." It felt silly. 

"Don't be stupid," Light snapped. "I'm right here."

But he wasn't. "Kira is right here. I want Light."

Light rolled his eyes, but he seemed to come back to himself. His shoulders relaxed, his expression softened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off from L and the rest of the world. From what L knew of Kira, this was uniquely Light. Kira would die before he showed defeat. 

When the silence grew unbearable, L said, "You cannot lose control you never had."

Light flinched as if he'd been struck across the face. "You really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Please don't ask me to do this, Ryuzaki..." Light paused. " _L_. Don't ask me, please."

With a feeling like regret stirring in his chest, L said, "Then I'm not asking. I'm ordering you to help me catch the new Kira."

Light set his jaw, his shoulders tense. Briefly, in a moment of weakness, L wondered if Light would ever be able to forgive him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Also, I thought it might be good to remind myself and everyone reading that L is... still a bit of a manipulative bastard.


End file.
